


Never Gone

by Chellann_Nicollares



Series: I Wish You Knew [3]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellann_Nicollares/pseuds/Chellann_Nicollares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The drive home after filming the episode featuring Link's high school gym bag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Gone

_*Inspired by[GMMore: Link’s High School Gym Bag](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZ2lwazDrtE)._

* * *

 

 

Link rolled his thermal cup between his hands and admired the setting sun. The wire-fenced, cement-paved backyard of their studio can hardly rival the Santa Monica beach or the riverbanks back home, but he could marvel at a sunset anywhere. No matter where the sun set, he could always contemplate how a sight can be so peaceful and yet look so much like fire.

He smiled briefly at the achievement of completing all episodes for next week—filmed, reviewed and approved. He patted the stack of outfits he had run through which were neatly folded and tucked into a garment bag laying on the cement ledge next to him. One less thing to worry about, at least for tonight. But it was the end of November and their sponsorship contract would soon expire, which meant new, prolonged research, new pitch meetings, new negotiations and new compromises. There was also the frown-worthy predicament that came with doing the same thing for almost 600 times. Lately, their brainstorming sessions had been more and more often thwarted by “Buzz Feed has done that” or “Source Fed has done that” or “that would be the third time we use Mental Floss in one week”. Soon, anxious thoughts smoldered in his chest like ember in the dry, sunny winter. He yanked off his glasses, raised his slightly shaky hand and scrubbed at his eyebrows with the heel of his palm.

The backdoor of their studio building squeaked open and the 6’7’’ blond walked through with that signature bounce in his steps. Still wearing his greyscale plaid shirt, he also had a similarly folded stack of outfits clenched to his prominent chest. Link only allowed himself a blurry glance before he looked down and put his glasses back on.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let me just finish this. Don’t wanna deal with cold coffee when I’m driving.”

Rhett nodded and strolled over to sit down next to Link on the cement ledge.

“How many of those have you had today?” He tipped his chin towards the coffee in Link’s hands with a stern look.

“Three?” Link shrugged.

“Not counting the one you brought from home and finished in the car and that other one Stevie picked up for you when she came back from lunch.”

“Why are you counting the coffees I drink? It’s not like I’m smoking or chugging from a flask or something.”

Rhett fell silent and scrutinized his profile for a prolonged moment. Link felt the heat of his gaze slowly toasting his cheek and stubbornly refused to meet those penetrating eyes. When he finally mustered an irked frown and turned to face him, Rhett peeled his eyes away and stared at the wire fence.

“I worry about you sometimes, man.” His deep baritone sounded like a pensive monologue.

“For drinking coffee? There are far more important things to worry about.”

“Caffeine is a drug Link, don’t forget that.”

“Vitamins are drugs too, strictly speaking.”

“They don’t keep increasing tolerance and speed up your heart for no reason.”

“My heart is fine.”

Rhett sank his elbows into his thighs and mindlessly raked his sky-scraping hair.

“Do you know about Balzac?”

“There’s a dude named ball sack? Pleeease tell me he’s on Facebook.”

“No, Neal. B-A-L-Z-A-C. French novelist, one of the greatest writers of all literature.”

“Good for him.”

“He died at 51. They say coffee killed his heart, man.”

“They? You talking about coroners and cardiologists?”

“It was the 1850s. They probably went by a different name.”

“They probably went by a different coffee too, with a little something something in unfiltered water.”

Rhett let out a resigned sigh. “He married the love of his life and died five months later, Link. Sure he churned out some of the world’s best novels by burning himself to the wick but…five months. That’s all the happiness he ever got. And then, the people who loved him were just left behind.”

Link responded with a dry chuckle and an absent-minded nod. “Put a pin on that. It sounds just morbid enough to make an episode.” He tilted the rest of the coffee down his throat with a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple. “Let’s go.” He sprang lightly off the ledge, picked up his clothes and swayed his narrow hips with long strides towards his car.

He could almost sense Rhett’s eyes boring into his spine for a few seconds, but the irritatingly good-looking blond soon caught up by dint of even longer legs. A few minutes later, their studio building became a smaller and smaller fleck in the rear view mirror.

“You’re not gonna keep working when you get home are you? We’re set for next week.” Rhett said with his soothing radio voice.

“Yeah.”

“I got a good feeling for the lineup. The debate format tested well last time, this waffle-pancake one could be even more popular.”

“Hopefully.”

“And we’ve also got quite a bit to offer for the fans who like personal revelations. I mean, your high school gym bag should be a doozy. So now, we’ve got two full-length high school stories and there’s that Tommy segment too.”

“Yup.”

Their on-camera conversation played back in Link’s mind and he nodded with a silent frown. For the past week he was barely holding his head above the flood of memories, and just when he thought he had breached the shore and put it all behind him, he found himself thrown against the waves once again. He could almost feel the dusty soccer cleats back on his feet, the always over-tightened knot drawn by his obsessive compulsive fingers choking the veins on the back of his feet. He could see himself pulling his soccer shorts just a stitch higher on his skin-over-bone hips, fingers itching towards the folded letter but having to slam his locker shut and walk onto the field. He spent most of the time on the bench that day, but the brief moments of running in those stuffy cleats surrounded by a siege of audience was nerve wracking and empowering at the same time. And when the audience dispersed and the trace of sweat had chilled his hair, he read the letter. He was hurt only for a brief moment before settling in utter relief.

Thank the good lord he wasn’t the one who had to do it.

He was too timid to kiss her, he said, and the world believed. Of course he didn’t say that he was confused, ambivalent, unwilling. Of course he didn’t say that he was becoming increasingly frustrated by his infatuation with someone he could never have. Of course, he didn’t say that her dark blond hair reminded him too much of a different face, a face far too angular and masculine with a pair of eyes deeper than the thickest forest of Amazon. He tried distancing himself from that face by seeking company in the opposite gender and not spending time with his best friend for months on end, but every time it became necessary to approach a pair of lips not surrounded by a hint of stubble or adorned by an endearing mark, it felt like cheating.

“Can I ask you something?” Link asked, maybe too impulsively.

“Shoot.”

“How do you remember the names of every girl I dated?”

Rhett shrugged with a flat expression on his face. “You’re my best friend, aren’t I obligated to know that?”

“Well enough to recite them in chronological order at the drop of a hat? I swear the timeline wasn’t even clear to _me_ until after you said it.”

“I’m good at remembering things. The secret to being a successful know-it-all.”

“But…you didn’t exactly have a reason to remember them. We didn’t even hang out when we had girlfriends which means you weren’t exactly friends with them to start with, _and_ it’s twenty years ago.”

Rhett tilted his head and scratched at his beard with a frown. “I don’t get why you’re so surprised. Don’t you remember everyone _I_ dated?”

“Well yeah, but I…”

 _I had a reason to be jealous of them_ , Link thought, but he has had too much practice restraining himself to not bite back those words. “I’m just…smart.” He said, his tone as masterfully smooth as his expression.

The car stopped at a red light and they both fell silent for a minute, listening to the melodic blues-rock that offset the silent engine and the rumbling LA traffic rushing in the perpendicular direction.

 _Like every lover hovers in my mind,_  
_We made our mark when we were in our prime._  
_The house had burned, but nothing there was mine,_  
_We had it all when we were in our prime._

 _Every now and then, I see a face from way back when and I explode._  
_Friends no longer aid me, only bullshit serenade me like it's gold, how that we're told._  
_I'm praying for some laughter, maybe joy for ever after till I die._  
_I'm hungry for a change, I got my fill of other's pain, I realized,_  
_Opened my eyes._

When the car started moving again Link could almost feel tension grow in the silence of his passenger. He shot a confused glance at him. The grooves of mystique between his powerful eyebrows were just a stitch deeper, with just enough je-ne-sais-quoi to make that image a timeless still from a movie.

There were times when Link would have kicked himself for thinking of his daily companion this way, but it was ok now. He had long fallen into an industrially engineered routine of denial, of breathing against the throbbing pain in his heart. Step one, don’t look at him. Step two, don’t think about him. Step three, funny sarcasm to the rescue. He had taught himself to tolerate the proximity to the forbidden body, and to keep a smooth mask of lopsided smirk when he elicited an intoxicating smile on those heart-shaped lips. He had taught himself to be stronger than a pathetic baby who cried about a toy he couldn’t have, _shouldn’t_ have, stronger than a teenager who slammed the door and hurled his textbook across the room in frustration, stronger than an impulsive young man who seized his best friend’s hand in a moment of weakness then forgot that he was holding it.

If not stronger, at least hardened.

So now, after practicing sheer will-power for more than twenty years, he could allow his mind a silent appreciation for the objective attractiveness of his best friend without being consumed by desire and angst. It didn’t hurt anymore, like a scab that has been healing long enough to be petulantly picked at without drawing blood.

“We spent so much time this week talking about high school and now, it’s just… _done_.” Rhett said, with that voice that carried the charm and gravitas of a brilliant thespian.

“I’m more than glad that we’re not those people who fixate on high school throughout the rest of their lives.”

Rhett nodded slowly and picked at the corner of his thumb, silent and ill at ease.

“Thanks for not bringing up the sleeping bag thing. You know, in front of the whole team.” He finally said with a small voice.

Link winced so hard he had to close his eyes for a few seconds, despite the dangerous task of weaving through traffic. When his eyes flew open, his lungs burned with strangled breaths. He had been bracing himself all week, praying that this moment wouldn’t come, the moment that made his heart feel like being scraped by sandpaper. But now, without warning, it came. 

In the blink of an eye the upholstery behind his back became the scorching heat of his best friend’s skin. Teenage fingers traced from his collarbone to his shoulder, his bicep, his forearm, the back of his hand. The heart-shaped lips that constantly disrupted his thoughts fell gently on his shoulder and lingered for exactly three excruciating heartbeats. And in the blink of an eye it was gone.

The cheap, flimsy fabric surrounding their bodies rustled loudly as the lanky blond scrambled onto his back with jagged panting and profuse apologies of beginning to dream and not meaning to do it. Link breathed through the strangled breaths burning in his lungs and didn’t touch the tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes. When he said “it’s ok”, his voice did not shake.

But after all, it’s been more than twenty years and his eyes had been dry for a long, long time.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad we survived it.” Rhett said, quietly and pensively.

“Survived?” Link frowned at the curious choice of word and glanced at his passenger. But beyond the perpetual groove between his powerful eyebrows, Link couldn’t read anything from those tenacious, color-changing eyes.

“You know what I mean. Most people…when you’re at that age, would probably have just never gotten over the awkwardness and avoided each other until they’re mutually forgotten. I’m just…I’m glad we didn’t let it come between us.”

“I would never have given you up, no matter how you felt.” It wasn’t until he heard those words in his own voice that Link realized what he had said. He felt Rhett’s eyes bore into his profile and pressed down the anxious dismay rising in his chest with all the will power he could muster.

“Not to mention I’m never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.” Link enunciated with an exaggerated pucker of his plump lips and waited for his friend to catch on to the joke. His heart was bruised and exhausted, but his mind applauded him for being strong.

The moment seemed to have stretched on just a touch too long before the massive blond finally relaxed.

“Did you just Rick-roll me in real life?”

“Yeah. Told you I was the funnier one.”

A light punch landed on his bicep, and he felt the stiff outline of Rhett’s wedding ring.

Link took a deep breath and realized the song had changed. The sway of blues was gone and the crisp guitar chords almost sounded lonely in the background of the simple and clean vocal.

 _And I told you to be patient,_  
_And I told you to be fine,_  
_And I told you to be balanced,_  
_And I told you to be kind,_  
_And in the morning I’ll be with you,_  
_But it will be a different kind,_  
_‘Cause I’ll be holding all the tickets,_  
_And you’ll be owning all the fines._

“You know, when you pulled out that letter, I really thought…”

“Yeah. Sorry I didn’t warn you ahead of time.” Link said. He thought back to how color drained from Rhett’s face and a string of “no” escaped his lips. When he said “you didn’t find…” and couldn’t finish the sentence, Link saw clearly the disbelief, anger and hurt in those eyes that looked steely blue in the harsh lighting.

“Nah. It’s ok. Could you just…promise me something?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“I’m serious Link.”

The brunet frowned at the grave tone. “Ok shoot.”

“If you ever find it, _please_ don’t bring it on camera.”

“Pretty sure I lost it on the other side of the country dude.”

“Could you just promise me?”

“O- _kay_. I promise.”

“You get why, right?”

“Of course I do. It’s too sacred to be used for views.”

Link felt the penetrating gaze on his cheek again. Afraid of seeing what he wanted to see in the unfathomable orbs of hazel, he kept his eyes on the road.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page brother.”

They stopped in front of Rhett’s house. Instead of eagerly disembarking, the tall blond slumped in his seat and stared at his fingers weaving together and clenching at the already white knuckles. Link waited curiously in shared silence.

“Happy anniversary.” He finally said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“What?” Link turned to face his friend with a confused frown.

“The blood oath. That was twenty years ago today.”

Link gaped at his best friend in shock. “Oh. I um…wow. I knew it was around this time but…never realized it was exactly today.”

Rhett smiled and gave him a forceful clap on the shoulder that was almost painful. He held his hand in place and gently rocked the bony frame.

“Thirty years, buddy. 84 to 2014. Quite the achievement if you ask me.”

“Yeah. I’d say that’s the most important thing I achieved this year.” Link said softly and couldn’t help smiling back. His breath caught in his lungs while tears burned behind his willfully controlled eyelids. Something unreadable fleeted through Rhett’s hazel eyes as his thumb gently ran over the tip of Link’s sharp collar bone. But before the brunet could allow his heart to skip a beat, the warm, broad hand was gone. It trailed halfway down Link’s bicep and left his skin tingling with loss.

The car door opened with a dull thump and crisp night air drowned Link’s body. Rhett stepped out, lingered beside the car for a second and bent his tall frame down with a warm smile.

“Drive safe, brother.”

“Of course, don’t you trust me?” Link swallowed the powerful sentiments and forced a slightly quivering smirk. Rhett chuckled and strolled away towards his house. He never looked back, and Link never looked away from his burly frame until it disappeared into the beautiful orange glow behind his door.

 _Who will love you?_  
_Who will fight?_  
_And who will fall far behind?_

Link returned his attention to the steering wheel and slowly pulled out of the familiar driveway in a daze.

_Annivesary._

He realized that last year around this time Rhett worked his ass off pitching to headquarters to send them to France in the coming spring, and the year before last he made up some ridiculous bet about Super Note for a steak dinner that he seemed just a little too happy to lose. And above all the suspiciously kind gestures, there was that damn star.

But Link could not allow himself to scrutinize his blood brother’s actions. He had spent twenty years building a dam around his heart and instill unyielding discipline in his mind. Fixating on kindness from the one he couldn’t have would invite the dangerous questions that will no doubt jeopardize the levee and tear him apart at the seams. Kindness from the one you couldn’t have can be a punishment, cruel and unusual.

The sound inside the car changed while he was lost in thought. Even-tempo piano chords rang clear against a backdrop of electronic percussion, hollow and muddy. A magnetic female vocal chanted with a soft rasp and a heart-breaking vibrato.

 _Words with no meaning_  
_Have kept me dreaming_  
_But they don't tell me anything_

 _All you never say is that you love me so_  
_All I'll never know is if you want me oh_  
_If only I could look into your mind_  
_Maybe then I'd find—_

Link jabbed a frustrated finger into the power button of the stereo before the singer could finish her chorus. The music died abruptly like a candle wick between violent, wet fingertips. He drove the rest of the way home in a cold war between the silence in his car and the cacophony of the LA traffic outside.

When he rushed into his house, Link greeted his family with haste and almost jogged into his bedroom. He balked in front of his dresser with jagged breaths stabbing at his lungs. Maybe that last coffee wasn’t a good idea after all.

Link pulled open the bottom drawer and reached into the back with trembling hands. He pulled out the severely frayed and discolored wallet that he had claimed he lost for the past twenty years. Tears washed over his long lashes and gathered at the bottom of his glasses. The plastic frame held the teardrops against his cheeks as he gingerly opened the leather and pinched out a small folded square. It was yellow, stained, and the folds had become fuzzy from repeated friction. It had always been tucked in the same slot in the same wallet, stashed in the back of a different drawer every time he moved to a different house.

It was always hidden, but it was never gone.

Link carefully unfolded the sheet with trembling fingers. He could hardly see past the waterfall in his eyes to the short paragraph in awkward teenage handwriting about best friends and promises to achieve big things together, and the conclusion in a sickening smudge of decayed blood. But underneath the signature in blood, there was another line that Link had added behind his locked bedroom door, with trembling fingers and a pounding heart.

“Because I love you.”

He had only ever confessed to that blood-stained piece of paper, and that’s why he could never show it to his sworn brother again, because he had changed the oath and what it was supposed to mean.

But still, he could swear to its truth with his blood.

The truth of his confession has never changed. But as his own life had proven to him, “true” and “feasible” are never the same thing. “True” can also be “secret”, “true” can also be “wrong”, and "true" isn’t always “real”.

“Life is a series of forks in the road.” He remembered hearing an author say so in an interview he saw on TV. “When you reach a divide, you might think: let me just go left, and after I see what’s at the end of that road, I can turn back and try going right. But when you go down that path on the left, what you’ll soon find is another fork in the road, you’ll have to make another choice thinking that you could come back later and try the other option. But that is never an option. There will always be the next choice leading to the next choice, and before you know you are too far gone from that first divide where you thought you could choose differently. The nature of the path of life is that there is no turning back.”

“Dinner’s ready.”

Link snapped out of his reverie and turned his head towards the familiar, soothing voice coming from the end of the hallway, the voice of the first person who could take his mind off his best friend. When he was with her, his words were sincere and his smiles were genuine. When he kissed her, it didn’t hurt. So fifteen years ago he asked her to join him at the altar, and he was grateful for her company every single day after. He smiled and cleared his throat.

“Coming.”

Almost simultaneously, he felt the vibration of his phone in his back pocket and pulled it out. Rhett’s name glowed on the screen.

_Dan just emailed me and we renewed with both Square Space and Lynda. He’s also been in touch with Audible and things are looking good._

Link nodded to himself. Reality is more important than truth anyway. In reality, they survived the confusion and awkwardness instead of drifting apart until they were mutually forgotten. In reality, they stayed true to what they solemnly promised each other with their blood. In reality, they are achieving something big every day, and they’re doing it together, surrounded by the people they love. In reality, he is living a dream.

_That’s great. 2015 is gonna be a good year._

Link hit “send” and pulled off his glasses. The pool of tears collecting at the bottom of the frame crashed onto his phone screen like flood through a broken dam. He wiped it dry with shaking fingers just as it lit up with Rhett’s reply.

_I can’t wait._

 

* * *

 

Named after [the Colton Dixon song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RAUcczfMYE).

Soundtrack: In Our Prime — The Black Keys ([Album: Turn Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trQ84K3K5eU) 37:53-42:30)

                   [Skinny Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tg5zqFZ_Dj8) — [cover] Ed Sheeran                   

                   [All You Never Say](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iB5MLmmgyE) — Birdy

                                

_*The sleeping bag reference is from the weird moment of tension in[GMM#192](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IehGC4_PqPs) around 2:20.*_

**Author's Note:**

> Another special shout out to my girl JennaLee for the kind words and astute proofread!!


End file.
